The Straw that Breaks
by ithinktherefore
Summary: Emily finds out that Naomi is keeping another secret. Will this secret be what finally breaks them, or can it bring them back together?
1. Chapter 1

EMILY'S POV

Well, I don't know if he was the last or the second-to-last person I expected to see while out at the pub this afternoon, but running into Matt Moore certainly left me stunned. I'd left Mandy at the table and went to the bar for a fresh round of drinks. Mandy and I had been having some laughs, and I was able to forget how fucking miserable I was for a few hours. Until I turned around and saw _him_. It was the first time I'd seen Matt since the roof – since my whole fucking world completely unraveled.

"Emily. Hey. How are you doing?" He offered me an uncertain smile.

"Um, I'm fine, Matt, thanks. You...?" I tried to appear interested, but I really wanted to get away from him as fast as possible.

"Yeah, I'm doing alright. Just out with the lads for a few pints after winning a tough match today." He glanced back towards the table with his rowdy teammates, then turned and fixed me with an assessing stare.

"Nice. Good for you. So, I'll leave you to it then. Good seeing you, Matt." I hope I didn't seem as guilty as I felt. This wasn't quite as bad as running into JJ and Georgia last week, but still.

I turned to make a quick getaway and get back to Mandy – back to forgetting – but Matt wasn't going to let me escape so quickly.

"So, I'm guessing things with Naomi didn't work out in the end?", he asking, nodding in the direction of my table.

I shook my head, "It's not like that... it's...it's complicated..."

"Yeah, isn't it always. But I guess there's some comfort in knowing it wasn't for lack of trying, right?" His eyes glanced again over to Mandy. "I guess that makes it easier for you to move on, yeah?" I grimaced, but didn't quite flinch.

"Yeah..."

"Well, take care, Emily. It really was nice seeing you. I hope everything works out – for both of you." Matt smiled, a genuine one this time. He squeezed my shoulder, then turned to rejoin his friends.

I started to walk away, too, but then it struck me.

"Matt, wait. What you just said, – 'it wasn't for lack of trying'? What did you mean by that?" I couldn't help the hint of anxiety that started creeping into my voice.

"Well, from what Naomi's mentioned, I know she really was hoping for a second chance, and was trying to..."

"Wait, what?! You've been talking to Naomi...?" My disbelief was obvious. As was my anger.

"Well, yeah, I have - a bit. Sorry, I assumed you knew that." He looked as confused as I felt. "When she comes round to visit my Mum, sometimes I sit with them. We talk..."

"Naomi visits your Mum?! What the fuck?! Since when?" This was beyond weird...it was un-fucking- believable.

"Emily, I don't know what to say. I thought you knew all of this." Matt was clearly uncomfortable about revealing all of this to me. "Maybe she wanted to...was trying...fuck, I don't know." Matt's face gave away his confusion.

"Matt – just tell me what's going on." I pleaded with him to continue.

"She comes by on Sunday mornings - has tea with my Mum. They usually visit for about an hour or so. Afterward, my Mum doesn't seem quite so sad. Neither does Naomi. It's a good thing, Emily...isn't it?"

His eyes were almost begging me to understand. But I wasn't ready to go down that road. Not yet.

"How long, Matt? How fucking long has Naomi been coming round to yours for chats with you and your Mum? Tea and fucking sympathy, is it?. Begging forgiveness? Saying she's sorry? She's so fucking pathetic!" I was beyond furious. How could Naomi keep this from me? She betrayed my trust...AGAIN.

"No, Emily! It's not like that. She just ..."

"Save it, Matt. I don't want to hear it. Not from you, anyway." I had to get out of there. I had to confront Naomi. I turned back to the table where I'd left Mandy.

"Mandy, I'm sorry but something's come up and I need to get home. I'll call you, yeah?"

I already had my coat on and was headed out the door before she had a chance to respond. I barely heard her say "Text me later so that I know you're OK!" before the pub door closed behind me.

Well, at least she didn't seem mad. Wish I could say the same. I was beyond mad. I was fucking livid. So, Naomi'd been having weekly chats with Matt and his Mum? Apparently telling them things she couldn't tell _me_? Just like she'd confided in fucking Sophia the things that she couldn't tell me. That secretive fucking cow! Well, that's it. Fuck her. This time, it was really fucking over.


	2. Chapter 2

NAOMI'S POV

I was sitting at my desk, studying for an upcoming Philosophy exam. I had never really appreciated Philosophy before this year. I thought it was just so much head-wanking. But after my relationship with Emily completely imploded, I found a philosophical worldview to be something of a comfort.

When you contemplate the idea of whether or not you actually even _exist_, well, lost love, betrayal and heartbreak seem to have a bit less hold over you. Or so I tried to convince myself. The spliff certainly helped in that endeavor.

So, there I was with a new chapter of Descartes to read, and a new spliff to roll, when Cyclone Emily touched down in my bedroom. I could smell the pub on her, so knew this was going to be an alcohol fueled scene, whatever it was. There was no point in even bracing myself for what was coming. I'd already hit as low a point as I possibly could with Emily. Hadn't I...?

"What the fuck, Naomi?!" She was all wild gesticulations and barely controlled rage.

I couldn't even feign nonchalance, since this was the most emotion Emily had directed at me in weeks.

"Emily, what's wrong? What happened?" I started towards her, only to be stopped dead in my tracks by a look that could have turned Medusa to stone.

"What happened?! A fucking LOT happened, Naomi! None of which you deigned to tell _me_ – your supposed fucking _girlfriend_! Why didn't you tell me you'd been going round to Sophia's house? Having chats with her Mum and her brother?"

Her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides in a manner that caused the slightest bit of fear to run up my spine.

"Emily, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to keep it from you. I really wanted to tell you. We just don't seem to talk much these days.."

It was a lame excuse, I know. But that didn't make it untrue.

"Oh, fuck you with your 'sorrys', Naomi! Didn't you think that was something I'd want to know?!"

My eyes kept shifting from her face to her fists. Jesus, she was wound tight. The explosion was imminent. And I realized that the best thing might be to just let her go completely nuclear. This detente we'd been living was getting us nowhere. Me suffering in silence, but not actually _doing_ anything; Emily acting out by binge drinking and pill-popping, occasionally throwing hurtful barbs my way. I didn't even want to contemplate what she was up to with her new group of 'friends'. We needed to break out of this pattern, so if it had to be in the form of a nuclear explosion, so be it.

"Frankly, Emily, I no longer have the slightest idea what you want when it comes to me. When's the last time you even _asked_ me something?"

"Oh, please," she scoffed, "don't start acting the neglected wife."

"That's right. How could I ever forget?" In my most dramatic voice, "Ladies and gentlemen. The role of the victim in tonight's play will be performed by the sweet, innocent ingenue, Miss Emily Fitch. The irredeemable villain, of course, shall now and forevermore be played by Naomi Campbell. Boo. Hiss. Sneer. Etcetera. Etcetera. Fire tomatoes at will. Have I got that right, Ems?"

She was not amused.

"How about you stop with all the melodrama, and just tell me when you began your weekly tea with Mrs. Moore? Is that something you can do? " The sudden calm to her voice was even more unnerving than her shouting.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to talk to Emily about this, I really did. Had for a long time, in fact – and hoped that we were about to start a real conversation, and not an inquisition.

"OK. It, um, started after the barbecue – the weekend your family moved in."

"What?! Naomi, that was ages ago! How could you keep something like that from me?"

"Again, Emily, we haven't exactly been confiding in each other of late. Care to tell me who you were with at the pub this afternoon when this supposed 'secret' of mine came to light? No? Didn't think so."

"I don't know what you're talking about.." Her eyes studying the fascinating patterns in my throw rug indicated otherwise.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

EMILY'S POV

"Anyway, we're talking about_ you_ right now, Naomi, not about me and who I hang out with...not that _that_ should matter."

"It _does_ matter, Emily. It certainly matters to me, OK? And you fucking well know that. Don't try to pretend otherwise." She took a deep breath. "But you're right – that's not what we were talking about. OK, then...so, the barbecue." She looked away, running a hand through her hair.

"Christ, Emily, you were in so much pain, and it was killing me seeing you that way. I had promised you that I'd do anything – _anything_ to fix things, and make it right between us. But I didn't know what to do...what could I possibly _do_ that would take away your pain?"

I wouldn't look at her...I just couldn't. I knew if I looked into her eyes, the tears would start. And I'd had enough of crying. So I just stared at the floor, focusing instead on my anger.

"When I announced to everyone what I'd done with Sophia – what I'd done_ to you_ – I felt this suffocating sense of shame. But at the same time, there was a small sense of relief. Like I was finally owning up to it. Making amends, you know? At the very least, I thought if I told the truth, then you wouldn't need to pretend with our friends – with your _family_ – that everything was OK. And maybe that would somehow make things a bit easier on you..."

At that I looked up at her. "Oh, right. Pretend that your 'confession' was about making _me_ feel better. Isn't _that_ convenient! You're so fucking full of it, Naomi! You were just trying to make everyone feel sorry for _you_! 'Poor Naomi! Look how Emily makes her suffer!' You even said it yourself! ThatI was _punishing_ you!!"

"No! Emily, no... please listen. That's not what I meant. I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. I just wanted them to know there was a reason for the way you were acting. That you had a right to treat me like shit. I _am_ shit, and I deserved it – but no one else knew that! That's why I told them. Not to make _you_ look bad. To show that_ I was _ bad, and _deserved_ everything you did ...everything...and so much more."

Her voice broke at the last, but I wouldn't react. She was pleading with me to understand, and to believe her. And there was a small part of me that wanted to so very badly. But I just couldn't. Naomi had already proven herself to be an adept liar. How could I ever trust her? Fuck, how could I even trust _myself_, trust my own judgment, when I'd been so wrong putting my faith in her in the first place? I don't know which hurt more – questioning Naomi, or questioning my own instincts. She was to blame, either way. So I steeled myself.

"Look, Naomi – I was _at_ the barbecue, OK, so I don't need to hear your version of events, thanks. Just get to the part where you suddenly decided that it was time to pay Sophia's Mum a visit. So _thoughtful_ , aren't you? Did you bring her flowers...?"

I wouldn't be surprised if my dripping sarcasm left an actual puddle. Well, I had been learning from the best for some time now, hadn't I.

Naomi stared at me with an unreadable expression, and took another deep breath. I knew I was making this difficult for her, but I couldn't withhold this vitriol she continually brought out in me.

"Right. Sophia's Mum." She shook herself and continued. "So, after the barbecue, I figured you might need some space, so I went for a walk. A long walk, as it turned out. I kept thinking about what I'd done, and how I'd hurt you, how I'd hurt Sophia, and how oppressively fucking _guilty_ I felt. I was suffocating from it. And since I hadn't been able to do anything but cause you more pain, I found myself thinking about what I could do to fix the other messes I'd made."

Her head was down, but I caught her looking up at me through her mess of hair. Gauging me for a reaction. I just nodded my consent for her to continue.

"So that's when I really started thinking about Sophia...and her Mum. Because as guilty as I felt for how I'd treated both you and Sophia, it occurred to me how much _worse_ the guilt must be for her Mum. So much worse. Knowing even the little I did about their relationship, I knew she was probably killing herself over a million and one different interactions she'd had with her daughter. Things she'd give anything to take back. Do differently. I knew how awful she must feel. So _fucking_ awful..."

"So, what, you thought you'd go over there and start a fucking pity party? See if maybe she'd forgive you since I wouldn't – and Sophia _couldn't_...obviously." I knew that was cruel, but it was like I had no control over the bile I was spewing. And I didn't really care, anyway. Sort of...

"No, Emily. That's not it at all. You're not listening. I didn't want Sophia's Mum to forgive _me_. I was hoping maybe I could get Mrs. Moore to forgive _herself._ If not for her sake, than for her daughter's. Because I know what it means to hate your Mum, to blame her for your unhappiness. I'd been through that...I'd had desperate thoughts before. And I could just imagine the guilt my Mum would feel if I'd ever done what Sophia did. Emily, you can't even_ imagine_ such a feeling. And I just _knew_ that if Sophia could take it back, she would. She wouldn't want to put her Mum – or her brother – through all of that. No matter what had happened between them, I can't believe she would ever want her Mum to feel that way. And I thought that since Sophia wasn't there to fix things, then I owed it to her to try. For her... I owed her at least that much."

Oh my god. This was too much. Too fucking much. Was I now meant to feel more sorry for fucking _Sophia_? And her _Mum_? Was their pain now paramount to mine? Naomi was meant to fix _me_. Not _them_.

"So, what, Naomi, you went there and she welcomed you with open arms as some surrogate prodigal daughter? Gee, did you she offer you Garibaldi's to go with your tea?" Christ I wanted to just fucking slap her sad face. But then I saw the corners of her mouth quirk upwards...

"No. Actually, when I first told her my name, she responded by slapping the shit out of me." She _actually_ had a small grin when she said this.

"You think it's funny? That she hit you? That what you did to her daughter made her _want _to hit you?"

"No! No. It's not..it wasn't _funny_. It's just that in the moment I actually felt somewhat _pleased_ at having such a direct and honest reaction. It made a nice change, you know?" She gave me a pointed look.

"Oh, fuck you, Naomi. You have some fucking ..." Oh, shit. I remembered something...

"Wait. When I got back from having pizza with my family at my old house. I remember that your face – your cheek – was pretty red and swollen." I shook my head with the memory. "I guess I just assumed that it was because Katie or my Mum had ..."

"Jesus, Em, you sound so disappointed! Sorry to burst your bubble, but wrong Mum and wrong daughter. Much as I'm sure Katie or Jenna would have _loved_ to do the honours, I was smacked in defense of Sophia, not you. Guess you'll have to get your own hands dirty if you want that kind of satisfaction."

She was glaring at me. Challenging me. And I felt my blood start to boil. Like _actually_ boil, with bubbles in my veins, and steam coming out of my ears – the works.

"Oh, c'mon, then, Emily...just fucking do it already!"

And I wanted to. Like really-really-REALLY wanted to. I wanted to fucking smash her face in. But I had the sense that as much as I wanted to do it..._she_ wanted it even more. And I just didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"Oh, come on, Ems! What's the matter? Afraid hitting me will put your status as 'innocent little victim' at risk? Don't worry...it'll be our little secret. Do it! I fucking dare you!"

I looked down and just shook my head. I couldn't go there. I just couldn't. If I did, I didn't know if I'd be able to stop.

"Fuck you, Naomi. I fucking_ hate_ you"

"Poor, poor Emily. Needs other people to fight her battles. It's not too late to bring Katie in for this. Shall I call her? Seems like maybe you missed being the doormat after all..."

Fuck! YOU!!

crack!


	4. Chapter 4

NAOMI'S POV

"Naomi?! Oh, shit...Naomi! Please, wake up! C'mon, just open your eyes." I heard the panic in Emily's voice, but was having a hard time complying with her request. I think maybe I managed a flutter, but that's it.

"Oh, Naomi! Thank god!" I felt Emily pushing my hair from my face.

"Emily...wh'appened?" I croaked, trying to lift my head from the floor. It protested vehemently. "Ow, fuck me, that hurts."

"Stay down for a minute, Naomi, please." She gently pushed back on my shoulders, and I could see the anxiety on her face.

"Um. How did I end up on the floor, exactly...?" My head felt fuzzier and throbbed more than it did from any of my worst hangovers.

"Well, I...um...I punched you. By request, I might add. And you went down like a ton of bricks." If it didn't hurt so much, I think my eyebrows would have risen beyond my hairline. "You were out cold for a couple of minutes, actually.." She was looking at me, waiting for any of this to ring a bell.

I was having difficulty focusing, but I seemed to remember arguing with Emily. Right. I _was_ trying to get her to hit me. Well, fuck me, I guess I succeeded. Had I known we were going to reenact round two of the Manny Pacquiao-Ricky Hatton fight, I would have come up with a better strategy. My god but those Fitch girls are _freakishly_ strong!

I must have been looking at her funny, because Emily suddenly got very defensive.

"Naomi, you practically _forced _me to hit you! You were fucking taunting me, goading me to do it!" She was so flustered. Poor thing.

"Ems, calm down. It's OK. You're right – I did goad you into it. Admittedly, I think I was expecting more of a smack than a fucking knockout punch, but I suppose I had it coming." I said this with a smile, hoping to get her to relax. "Who knew you had such a dangerous right hook?"

At that she did smile.

I felt my jaw, and knew that that must have been where said right hook landed. But then I felt the knot on the side of my head, and shot her a dubious look. When I felt the bruising over my eyebrow, I did sit up.

"Christ, Ems – how many punches did you throw?! Ow..." My head was spinning.

"Naomi, please would you just lie back for a minute?" She sounded exasperated. "I only hit you the once, OK? In the jaw, I think."

"OK, sorry...it's just that I have this bump..." I raised my hand to indicate the side, but she cut me off.

"Yeah, um that's from when your head hit the desk when you fell sideways." She couldn't seem to look at me.

"And _this_...?" I asked, rubbing my eyebrow. She still wouldn't look at me. Shit, I hoped she wasn't feeling _too_ guilty about all of this.

"Erm, that happened when that heavy antique lamp you love so much fell from the top shelf of your desk, and landed on your, um, face. Such a sound it made, too... ", she mused.

At that, I could hear the withheld laughter in her voice. She wasn't looking away out of guilt – she was trying not to laugh at me. That cow!

"Emily! It's not funny, you know!"

"No, Naoms, of course it's not! Not funny at all!" I heard her mumble something about a 'glass jaw' under her breath.

She was full on grinning now, and seeing that sparkle back in her eyes brought out a similar grin in me.

"Alright, Manny, let's go get some ice for my head. And no doubt, for your hand, as well. Let me see?" That she obliged my request so easily made me feel happier than it otherwise should have.

The knuckles were bruised and swelling a bit, but thankfully nothing seemed broken. I held her hand longer than necessary, rubbing the back, and a clearly uncomfortable Emily stood and cleared her throat.

"Right, then, Ricky, let's get you up and onto your bed, and I'll grab some ice from the kitchen." With that she gently helped me to my feet and towards the bed. I couldn't stop from swaying, as my head was spinning like mad.

"Naomi, are sure you're OK?" She started to sound anxious again. "You know, you were out cold for a full minute or two. Maybe we should have a doctor take a look...?" She fixed me with a worried stare.

Seeing a look of such care and concern on her face stopped me in my tracks for a moment. It had been so long since I'd seen her look at me with anything but disdain, that I felt myself starting to get a bit teary-eyed. I looked away and shook myself out of it.

"Erm, no, Em. I'm fine. Really. Some ice and paracetamol and I'll be sorted. I promise..."

"If you say so..." She looked a bit skeptical, but went downstairs for the ice.

By the time she returned I had collected myself, and reached to take the glass of water and pain pills.

She then handed me an ice pack, while she placed a second one on her hand.

"So, Naomi, care to tell me why you wanted so badly for me to hit you?"


	5. Chapter 5

EMILY'S POV

I already had a general idea of what Naomi's response might be, but I really just wanted to let her put it into her own words. Naomi was never good at expressing herself when it came to her dreaded _emotions_, so this should be interesting. I leaned back against the headboard, and let her craft her answer.

"Yes, Ems, I am. Um, first, let me just start by saying it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with any latent masochism on my part, OK? Just wanted to make that point clear." She shot me an interesting sidelong glance with that comment.

Was she flirting with me? I had no idea how to interpret that look, so decided to just keep it light. For now.

"Right, no latent masochism. Disclaimed and duly noted. Please continue." I offered an eyeroll, but my voice held more humour than sarcasm.

"Right, thanks." She cleared her throat. Twice. "So, I meant what I said earlier – I've really wanted for us to be able to talk – like _really_ talk – for some time now. And there've just been so many fucking oppressive … _emotions_ … swirling around that neither of us was really in a place to open up, you know? Between your pain and anger, and my guilt and shame, there was just this ever present silence. Or numbness. Black cloud. I don't know..."

She looked over for some affirmation from me...or perhaps denial...but I nodded that I understood and was with her. So far.

"So, I knew that something had to give, if we were ever going to move forward, you know? Some catalyst was needed to get us out of this fucking miserable pit we'd been living in. But I had no idea what it was – what to do – how to reach you." She was looking down, with a slight shake to her head.

"And then you came home today, and I saw that you were just … _ humming_ with rage; like your whole body was this bomb set to blow with a hair trigger."

She shot me an assessing, but hesitant glance; maybe to see if I'd agree, or if she'd just returned me to that very state. I decided to let her off the hook by offering a non-committal, "Mm-hmm".

She swallowed and continued. "So, despite the fact that I was a _tad_ bit afraid of what would happen, I decided that maybe it would be good if you _did _explode. Just let all of that anger out; whatever that entailed. Because then...maybe _then_ ...you'd be in a place where you'd be able to hear what I had to say. And would want to talk to me, too. So far, it seems to have worked..."

At that, I did start to take exception.

"Naomi... You're making this sound like it was _my_ fault that we weren't communicating! I don't recall you making any major effort to open up to me. Seems to me that you've spent the past few months just moping around in your fucking granny sweater, looking all forlorn and pathetic!"

OK, I could feel my blood starting to heat up again, and I didn't want to go there. I sensed that we had an opportunity right now, and I didn't want to blow it. Literally or figuratively...

"No! Emily, you're right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's _absolutely_ a two-way street. I know it wasn't just _you_ that stopped us from working through things; it's also because I'm such a fucking chicken shit when it comes to talking about my feelings, and I'd shut down if you seemed the slightest bit unreceptive. I told myself that I was 'giving you your space', but I was just being a fucking coward, Ems, I know that now." She was pleading with me.

"Yeah, you were. You still _are _a fucking coward, Naomi. How has that changed...?"

"It _has_ changed, Emily. I promise you it has. I'm ready to talk about this with you. All of it...everything. If you'd just give me a chance. Please, can we just talk about it?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. We can..."

Naomi sighed with relief and slumped back into her pillows. I noticed her rub her head, and suddenly felt bad about dragging this out. I'm sure she had to have one hell of a headache right now. I decided to get this 'talk' going.

"What I really want to know, Naomi, is why?"

She squinted and looked up at me. "Why did I sleep with Sophia?"

I shook my head. "No. I want to know why you were so scared. What was it that you were so afraid of? Why did you feel trapped? Was it me? Was I too intense? Did I put too much pressure on you? Because, I thought we..."

She rushed in to cut me off.

"Ems, no! None of that is true. Please don't think that way. Ever. You were wonderful. _Are _wonderful. Perfect. It was all me. I did this to myself. To us..." The crack in her voice helped to convince me.

"So what was it, then? What made you so afraid...?"

She sniffed. "Fucking...love, Emily. Being loved, being _in love_. It scared the living shit out of me."

"But why? I don't understand, Naomi..." I furrowed my brow and looked down at her, trying gather more by reading her expression. She was obviously struggling for the right words.

"Emily, I don't think we hold the same meaning for 'love'. I'm willing to bet our experiences with it are vastly different. Almost like a language barrier, you know?"

"No, I don't know, actually. But I'd really like to, if you'd try to explain it to me." I gentled my voice, so she'd be assured of my sincerity.

"Well, it's just that I wasn't raised with it the way you were...the way most people are. Your Mum and Dad fucking adore you, and you can count on that, even when you're fighting. Like now. Their love is solid, safe, constant. It's not something you have to work to keep, or worry about losing." I heard a longing in her voice that made my chest hurt.

"Was it not that way for you, Naomi? I thought you and your Mum were really close..."

"Yeah, I guess we are now. But it hasn't always been like that."

"And what about your Dad? I've never even heard you talk about him." As the words left my mouth, I was shocked that this was the first time I'd ever thought to mention her father. It seems there were a lot of crucial parts of Naomi that I'd conveniently not considered.

"Well, I guess I never talk about him because I've never even met him. He's lovingly referred to by my Mum as that 'shitty little prick'. I guess he must have been, since he left my Mum when he found out she was pregnant with me." She sighed, and looked out the window for a moment. "I do know that she really loved him. Madly, apparently. After college they were going to travel the world and fuck on every beach in India. That's a direct quote, by the way. Mum has boundary issues, obviously. When dear old Dad fucked off, Mum ended up moving back in with my Gran."

"Oh my god, your poor Mum must have been devastated!" My heart broke for Gina. I always really loved her, and enjoyed her company. Her kooky, hippie ways were such a refreshing change from my own Mum's rigid worldview.

"Yeah, she was devastated, alright. I don't know if she's really gotten over it even to this day." She shot me a nervous look, suddenly realizing the implications for us in what she just said.

"Anyway, from the time I was really little, I remember there being these two sides to my Mum. One side was this adoring and attentive mother, who rained kisses down on me whenever I was within reach, and was always there for me when I needed her. I loved her so much; loved being around her and laughing, playing, and, well, you get the picture..."

I nodded, wanting her to continue, but afraid of where this was going.

"The other side of her was like the complete, polar opposite. She'd have these mood swings, or these 'dark spells' as we called them, and they could last days or weeks; there was no telling how long. She would just completely shut down. How she managed to maintain a job, I'll never know, but when she wasn't at work, she'd come home and shut herself in her room. She'd just sit or lay there, in a near vegetative state. Maybe play the radio. Sometimes I'd hear her cry. When I'd bring her something to eat that my Gran had made, she wouldn't even look at me. It was like I didn't exist..."

I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want anything to stop Naomi from talking. I sensed that this was the first time she'd told anyone these things, and I wanted so badly for her to let it all out. I sat myself up a little straighter, giving her the subtle clue that she had my full attention.

She cleared her throat a few times before continuing. "I didn't really understand why my Mum would act like this. Like most kids would, I assumed it was somehow my fault. That she was mad at me for something, but wouldn't tell me what it was. If only I could figure it out, I could get her to love me again. My Gran tried to reassure me that my Mum was OK, she was just nursing a broken heart, and she'd be back to normal very soon. We just had to take care of her until she got better. Well, she was like that for _years_; up for a month, down for a weekend. Up again for three months, down for several weeks. After my Gran died, things started to get a lot worse. Her down periods seemed to come more frequently and started to last longer. When she shut herself in her room, it was left to me to take care of things. Cooking, laundry, groceries, whatever."

"Just how old were you when your Gran died?"

"Um, nine, I think?" I gave her an appalled look. "Don't worry – I was very advanced and self-sufficient for my age. Made a mean grilled cheese sandwich." She grinned at me.

I just shook my head, unable to imagine having such responsibility when you're meant to be able to act like a kid.

I think Naomi was starting to feel uncomfortable at everything she was sharing, as she starting fidgeting, and speaking more quickly, and in a matter-of-fact manner.

"So, anyway, the teachers at school finally picked up on the fact that things were amiss at Casa Campbell, and decided to investigate. Mum ultimately started seeing a counselor. Things improved, the dark spells became less frequent, and Mum started dating. I had more than a few 'uncles' over the next couple of years, although none of them seemed to last longer than 6 months. Eventually, my Mum tired of the dating scene, and that's when she entered the 'communal living phase'. Cue the weird naked guys and messiah lookalikes. As you well know, that arrangement ended last year, and things started to get normal. Relatively. For us..."

I had the feeling that Naomi was glossing over more than a few crucial events, but didn't feel it was fair to call her on them. Not yet, anyway.

"So, anyway, Ems, what this whole sad tale of woe was meant to do was give you an idea of how, for me, love was not something that could be counted on, and it hurt like a bitch when it went away. And it _always_ went away."

She was looking at me now, and her face became serious again.

"Then you came along. And loving you – being loved by you – it was the hardest thing I could ever do, Em. I fought those feelings kicking and screaming, but I was powerless to stop it; so I let myself fall – for you. And I constantly had to keep my fears in check, so that I could just let myself_ be_ with you, and feel everything. Bask in it with you. And I thought I was doing OK with it, you know? I tried, I mean_ really_ tried to just go with it; to trust in this 'being in love'; to trust that you wouldn't hurt me, and I wouldn't hurt you." She turned away from me. "I fucking love you, Emily, so much. You know I'd do anything for you. But, then..."

I waited a bit for her to continue, then finally prompted, "But then...?"

Another deep breath. "But then...Mexico. It sounded wonderful, at first. You, me, fun in the sun. Fucking on every beach in Mexico..."

Oh, shit. Of course...

"Fuck, Naomi. Why didn't you tell me any of this?! I would have understood! We could have worked through all of this..."

"Emily, up until now, how in touch with my feelings have I ever shown myself to be? I didn't know _why_ I felt the way I did at the time, I just knew that I felt completely trapped. I was so afraid that if I told you I didn't want to go with you to Mexico, that it would hurt you, and I'd lose you. And I was afraid that if I _did_ go with you to Mexico that we'd hurt each other, and I'd still lose you. I was terrified of making the same mistakes my Mum made. And losing myself. Can you understand that?"

So that was it, then. Jesus. I wish she'd have been able to share that with me last summer. Everything would have been so much different. I let a massive sigh, and shuffled down from the headboard, sinking lower into the bed.

"I get it, Naomi. OK? I do..."

I heard Naomi sniff, and realized she might be crying.

I reached out and covered her hand with my own.

"But, Naomi, I swear on my life, if I_ ever _get you pregnant, I won't leave you..."

TBC...

**Thanks so much to those of you who've been reading this – especially those of you who've taken the time to review. You're all so wonderful! . This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so it really amazes me that there are people who care about what happens next. I love that, and it's the best motivation to write faster. Well, there's just one chapter left, and I really wanted it posted before the season finale (and before this becomes an AU). I don't think I'm going to make that deadline, but I will get the last bit posted by the weekend.**


	6. Chapter 6

NAOMI'S POV

I chuckled at Emily's attempt to lighten the mood. That was exactly what I needed after telling her all of that...heavy....stuff. God, I still can't believe I did it. I'd been dreading this conversation for so long; I mean I wanted it to happen, but was so afraid of cocking it all up. Or of having Emily hear what I had to say, and still not caring. That would have been the worst scenario. I shivered at the thought.

Emily still had my hand and gave it a little squeeze before letting go.

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Naomi. I know it couldn't have been easy on you."

"No, Ems, I told you, this is something I've wanted to do for a while now, and..."

"Actually," she interrupted with a wry grin, "I meant that it couldn't have been easy on you to do all of that _talking_, what with your sore jaw and all..."

Then she winked and planted a small kiss on said sore jaw. What the...what?

I smiled and closed my eyes at the all too brief feel of her lips on me, and longed for the time when that would have been the start of something wonderful. Christ, it was taking all of my willpower not to just roll over and jump her bones. I've missed her _so_ much! But it was too soon for such a move. Just because she agreed to hear me out, didn't mean that she wanted us to get back together. I wasn't sure what any of this meant, actually. I suppose I could just_ ask_ her...

"Ems...?" I leaned towards her, resting my head on my arm.

"Hmmm?"

"What are you thinking right now?"

She let out a heavy sigh. "I guess I just find myself wishing that we'd had this conversation back in August, you know? I can't stop thinking about how different things would be."

I rolled back onto my pillows.

She couldn't stop thinking about how different things would be? That's practically all I've thought about for months. Everything would be different..._everything_.

"I think a lot about that, too. I'd give anything not to have hurt you that way. I took so much from you, Emily...it fucking kills me to contemplate all of the pain I caused you. And Sophia... Sophia...I can't even...she'd still be alive, wouldn't she?"

"You don't know that, Naomi. She was unstable, who knows what would have happened? I mean she _stalked _you for fuck's sake. You can't take on that responsibility."

I'm glad Emily saw it that way, but I couldn't let myself off the hook so easily. The fact is that a girl was dead because of me. _Because of me._ I told Cook that we didn't kill her, which is true, but I sure as shit played a role in her decision to kill herself. The note she left for her brother made that point pretty clear. I truly believed that she'd still be alive if she'd never met me; if I hadn't used her the way I did. How do I fucking live with that? It's not something you can ever get over. Just ask Mrs. Moore. She's already asked the same of me.

Emily lay there silently, no doubt lost in her own thoughts. I really didn't want to talk about Sophia right now; I was exhausted, and the construction crew that had set up residence in my head had their jackhammers working overtime. But I knew that Emily might want some answers, and I wanted so much to finally get everything out in the open.

"Do you want us to talk about...any of that? About that day? Because I will, if you need to; if it helps, I mean. Helps us..."

She gave me a long, assessing look while she thought it over. I wasn't even sure how I wanted her to answer – which answer would be the better sign.

"I guess I want to know if the things she wrote – the things she _drew_ in her diary – is that the way it happened?"

"I never saw her diary, Emily, but based on what Matt described, I'd say it was fairly accurate."

I felt her stiffen next to me, so continued before she could dwell too much on my conversations with Matt.

"There was quite a bit she left out, obviously. If you want, I'll fill in the blanks; tell you about that day from my perspective. But only if you want..."

"Well, I can't say that I particularly _want_ to hear about it. But I guess we should get it all out, huh? If we're ever going to move forward, it has to be without any secrets. Right?" She gave me a pointed look at that last bit.

"Of course. I don't want anymore secrets, either, Em. I think we _both_ know from experience how much they can hurt." I returned her pointed look with a raised eyebrow of my own, daring her to remember JJ.

The quick downward shift of her eyes let me know she got the point. And that was enough for me to continue.

"Well, as I said, I was conflicted about our trip to Mexico. I thought maybe if I went to an open day it would help me figure some things out. Maybe, after being there, I'd feel better about putting Uni off for a year. Or maybe I'd get the courage to tell you how much I really wanted to start my studies; tell you about some of my goals. I guess I just hoped I could find some clarity by going there."

"But you found Sophia, instead."

"Well, she found me, actually, but yeah. I had no idea who she was, but when she told me she went to Roundview, I guess felt obliged to chat with her. It was obvious how uncomfortable she was; overwhelmed; intimidated by the other students, maybe, I dunno. I felt sorry for her. When I told her I was headed to some reception they were having on campus, she asked if she could tag along. We went, and after a few glasses of some cheap champagne, she relaxed, and we started having a bit of a laugh."

I grabbed the glass of water from the night table, and took a long draught. I took the opportunity to glance at Emily, hoping to get a read on her, only to find her gazing steadily at me. I finished drinking, and cleared my throat.

"When the day was over, we sat together on the train back to Bristol. The guilt over not telling you about the open day was eating at me, and I found myself confessing to Sophia. She had secrets of her own, and seemed relieved to be able to share them with someone. We talked the entire ride back … about so many things. Her Dad had been in the army, and was killed when Sophia was young. Her Mum never got over the loss, and acted out in fucked up ways; took things out on Sophia and her brother. I could relate, obviously."

"Did you tell her what you told me, earlier? About your Mum...?"

"No, no...I never talked about any of that before today. I couldn't go there. No, I just...I held her hand, and told her I understood. I guess she saw something in my expression that convinced her that I meant it."

That seemed to settle something in Emily, as I heard her let out a breath. I took the opportunity to take another sip of water before continuing.

"When we got back to Bristol, I asked Sophia if she wanted to come back to mine. I was actually enjoying it – the talking – and didn't want it to end. I felt some form of release being able to tell her things; things I was too afraid to tell you. When I told her that I was in a relationship, she didn't seemed surprised. Maybe she saw us at the Love Ball, or heard something about it, I dunno. She asked me what it was like being in love. Christ, she was so fucking..._wistful_. That's when I told her that, for me, loving someone, being loved, was the hardest fucking thing there is; and how it made me feel trapped."

"You know I fucking hate that you were able to tell _her_ these things, but not me. Why couldn't you tell me? Why, Naomi?" The tears were slowly trailing down her cheeks, and I felt my heart breaking for the millionth time.

"I could tell _her_, Ems, because _she_ didn't matter. Whatever she thought of me after wouldn't matter. But you...you...Emily, you mean _everything_ to me. And I was terrified that telling you those things would make you question whether you wanted to be with me. I mean, who wants a relationship with someone who thinks love is a _trap_, for fucks sake?!"

"I just wish you could have trusted me with those feelings, you know? We could have worked through them. It hurts so much that you felt you couldn't trust me..."

"I know that, Emily; well, I do now. But at the time I was so confused. I didn't exactly have a good role model for how to handle this sort of thing, you know? The only example I'd had was that when you were upset and hurting, you just shut down and locked yourself away from the world. Actually _dealing_ with things has been a steep learning curve for me. But I'm really trying, OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that you are." She sniffed a bit, then turned to face me full on. "But what I can't see is why you had to then go and fuck her."

Shit. Well, I guess this part was inevitable. There were so many stupid reasons I fucked Sophia – spite, pity, to fucking forget, because she was looking at me _that way _– but none of them were going to be easy to explain. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to find the right words. I didn't think I'd ever find them.

"Emily, there were a million and one things going through my mind that day. I was on emotional overload, and the short answer is that there was no one reason why I had sex with Sophia. But I did, and it was fucking wrong, and I was sorry for it before it was even over. If you really want me to try to put into words the things that led up to it, I'll do my best, OK? But is it really something you want to hear?"

It took more than a minute before Emily responded, leaving me to worry that talking about this might hurt more than help; causing her to shut down again and distance herself from me. I rolled my head back a bit to see if I could read her expression, but the afternoon light was starting to fade. I turned on the bedside lamp and looked again.

"Em...?"

I heard her let out a deep breath, and steeled myself for the most awkward conversation of my life.

"You know what? I don't think I do. Want to talk about it, I mean. I thought I did, for the longest time, but, sitting here with you now, I just don't think I need to go there. Not right now, anyway. I think I already have a good enough idea."

"Oh, thank god..." I groaned and leaned back heavily in my pillows.

Emily leaned over me, not quite ready to put an end to this.

"But what I really _do_ need is for you to convince me that nothing like this will ever happen again. I need to believe that I can trust you, Naomi. I need to believe that I can trust myself."

"Wait. Why can't you trust yourself? I don't understand..."

"You lied to me, Naomi; you fucking lied to me again and again and I believed you. How can I trust my own instincts when I can't tell whether..."

"Whoah – wait a minute, Ems. Your instincts are fine. More than fine, actually. With every lie that I told – even though you seemed to accept it – you _knew_ something wasn't right. I know you _wanted_ to believe me, wanted to trust me, but you sensed things were off. That's why you went to Sophia's house after I said to leave it alone; it's why you went to see what was in her cadet locker – why you went back again to get that box; and it's why you called Matt to help you open it. Your heart told you _not _to trust me, Emily, and it was right."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"So the question I have for you, Emily, is will you let yourself believe what your heart is telling you now?"

I looked her straight in the eye, and tried to convey every ounce of love and sincerity I had in me.

"I swear on my life, Emily, I will never cheat on you or give you reason to doubt me again. I love you _so fucking much_, and I'm not afraid of it anymore. I'm not. And I promise you that if something comes up that does scare me, or causes me to doubt, I will talk to you about it. I won't lock my emotions away anymore. I don't even want to. Please forgive me, Em, and ...and just trust whatever your heart is telling you. Please..."

I didn't even realize I was crying until she leaned in to wipe my tears.

"I do forgive you..."

**Well that's it – thank god. :-) This was difficult to write, but I really needed to find closure on this for Naomi and Emily (the canon version just left me with too many unanswered questions). I hope my alternative was somewhat true to the characters. Anyway, thanks SO MUCH for reading, and especially for your kind reviews. You have no idea how much they meant to me. **


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